


Braids

by Whyndancer



Series: Scattered Memories [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, mild crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 05:52:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7745695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whyndancer/pseuds/Whyndancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy likes to play with Loki's hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Braids

**Author's Note:**

> I needed Tasertricks fluff.

    He woke to the feel of hands tugging his hair about in rather unusual ways.

    He'd dozed off sometime during the third or fourth episode of the second season of the television show that Darcy had insisted on ‘marathoning’ with him. While the talk of little green men was somewhat ridiculous,  he found the stories to be fairly entertaining so long as he maintained suspension of disbelief. Enjoyable or not, however, he was very much exhausted from the spell work he'd done earlier that day and so drifted off with his legs kicked over the arm of  the sofa and his head cushioned in her lap.

    Apparently he’d slept deeply enough for her to have left and returned because she'd not only changed position under him, she'd put a what felt like towel on her lap and seemed to have acquired a comb or brush of some sort.

    He decided that he must also still be half asleep, because he found he was not the least bit worried about what she might be doing to his hair. For one, it felt mostly lovely, even if she did tug a bit hard every once in awhile.

    He laid there quietly for several minutes, enjoying the attention before bothering to open his eyes.  When he finally did let them drift open, he found himself confronted with a look of somewhat manic glee on Darcy’s face. Needless to say, the feeling of her hands in his hair was suddenly far less relaxing.

    “Darcy,-” he licked his lips and swallowed the nervous squeak that was threatening to emerge - “love, would you mind telling me just what it is that you’re doing with my hair?”

    Her grin grew even wider as she carefully leaned over to press an upside-down kiss lightly to his lips. “I’m almost done, so you can see for yourself in a couple minutes.  I was playing with your hair, and you did the scowly eyebrows for a second in your sleep and I got an idea. It’s super silly, but also totally awesome and I will absolutely help you take it out later.  I’ll even help you wash your hair.” She finished her typically rambling explanation with a blatantly suggestive eyebrow wiggle. Her fingers tracing up the lines of his neck to that one spot behind his ear left no doubt as to her meaning. How utterly delightful. Still…

    “If you will insist on making a fool out of me, then I think the least I deserve in return is first choice of movie for the rest of the month. As lovely as the idea of you tending to me as a proper servant should is,” He managed not to flinch when she pinched in that same tender spot behind his him for that comment. It helped that he’d expected it. “, it’s hardly penance if it’s something you’re going to enjoy at least as much as I will.” He let his mouth drop into a moue of displeasure.

    Darcy snorted. “How the hell do you manage to look so freaking adorable when you pout? And dude, it’s only the second of the month. No way in hell do you get first pick for a whole month.  One week.”

    He narrowed his eyes. “Three weeks.”

    “Ten days, final offer, and-” She paused to tie off her work with an elastic. -”I’m done! Now, get up, I wanna see if it stays properly.”

    He made a point of heaving the most theatrically put-upon sigh he could manage as he swung up and off the couch and onto his feet.  He took a moment to roll his neck and shoulders, cocking an eyebrow back at Darcy when she emitted a strangled little half squeak.

    She merely pouted at him even as she took the hand he offered to pull herself up beside him.  As she passed him on the way to the bedroom he did hear her muttering under her breath, “You are too damn goddamn graceful for my own good, you fucker,” and so his mood was fairly high as he followed her to the mirror there.

    His trepidation returned in the few moments it took to reach the door to her room, as had Darcy’s delighted grin.  Her insistence that he close his eyes and let her lead him to the mirror didn’t help to lessen it in the slightest, though by this time his curiosity more than matched it.  Finally she had him arranged to her satisfaction and ‘allowed’ him to open his eyes. He couldn’t help but roll them as he did.

    And then he stared.  His audacious little lover had pulled the front half of his hair up and plaited it into two thick braids that rose straight up from either side of his forehead before curving back in a crude but obvious imitation of the proud and graceful horns he had chosen to adorn his ceremonial helm centuries ago.  There was a part of him that wanted to be offended, to slip into deep and bitter outrage, but…

    She was right. Her idea had been as fantastic as it was absurd, entirely worthy of the approval of one who would call himself a God of Mischief.  And that tiny voice in his head that wanted to rage at her disrespect was quickly drowned by the delighted laughter that bubbled up and out of his throat, crinkling the corners of his eyes and lighting his face with joy.  He turned to Darcy, who looked pleased, if a bit surprised at his reaction, and pulled her into his lap to kiss her properly.  

    When they were both a little giddy from one kiss turned into a dozen, he pulled back to rest his forehead against hers as he cradled her against him.

    “Oh Love,” he breathed, affection turning his voice tender, “I’ll never have to worry about taking myself too seriously so long as you’re around, will I?”

    Her answering smile was blinding and he found himself falling just little bit farther for her.  He supposed that eventually he’d find a limit to how deeply he can love her, but every time he thinks he’s getting close, she proves him wrong.  

    “Now.” He stood, setting her gently on her feet next to him, his smile taking on a decidedly mischievous edge. “Shall we go see if we can, how do you put it? Ah, yes, _break Thor’s brain_ a bit before we undo all your hard work?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Some of you may recognize this from a Tumblr post. It is in fact 100% inspired by [this post](http://whyndancer.tumblr.com/post/147829027463/howdidthisevenhappenanyway-lokiperfection).


End file.
